Immortal Beloved
by Purin-chan
Summary: “Immortality is not a gift; it is a curse," she whispered with her dying breath, but I did not listen. If she will come to hate me, then let her hate me, as long as her hate is mine and mine alone. XL, or is it?
1. Chapter 1

Immortal Beloved – Chapter One  
_By this I solemnly swear…_

"Ugh…"

A dull pain in my ribs confirms to me that I am, indeed, still alive. The next thing I can feel is my throat, which feels uncomfortably dry; it's probably crusted with layers upon layers of blood. I can still taste its distinct coppery flavor in my mouth--on my tongue, on my lips. Doubtless it is also caked blood I feel flaking off my bottom lip as it trembles from the cold that manifests in the core of my body.

I am dying.

Lina Inverse, age twenty sorceress extraordinaire and bandit killer like none other before her, is finally embarking upon the last leg of her journey through life. And who will be there in my last moments to witness my death?--No one.

I open my eyes, noting with disgust how my blood, like a sticky adhesive, binds my eyelids together. I scan the area around me slowly, moving only my eyes. There is plenty of rubble all around me; that last attack had sent the entire building down, caving in on top of me and my enemy, too, without a doubt. I can hear the crackle of fire coming from somewhere as well, but I can't turn my head to check. My head feels disconnected from the rest of my body.

A glance downward informs me that I have been impaled through the abdomen by a split wooden plank, though it is far enough to the side to have just missed my diaphragm, explaining why I can still breathe. _That's lovely_, I think with a dry indifference. Nothing can scare me now, just as nothing can change the fact that I am dying.

I glance up and sigh disappointedly. I would have liked to see the sky one last time before my hour of death, but unfortunately my last glimpse of the world has been blocked by a thick cloud of dust hanging like a weight upon my soul. I can't even feel the warmth of the sun's rays as it tries to make its way through the particles of dirt that hang suspended in the air.

I am alerted to my senses by the sound of something hitting the ground nearby. Perhaps I am not here alone. I call out to my visitor in a feeble voice: "Who's there?"

At first there is silence, and then a familiar voice.

"It's me, Lina-san."

My eyes settle on his figure as he emerges from the astral plane, feet settling one after another on the ground a short distance away from me. Instead of the annoying grin he usually wears, his expression for once is actually rather sincere. Had I been feeling better, I would have used some witty comment to greet him, but instead I settle for a simple mention of his name, "Xelloss."

I see what looks like dismay on his face and wonder if I sounded much worse than I thought. He pauses for a moment before he finally steps forward, coming to a kneeling position at my side. He doesn't need to examine my wounds to know that my condition is hopeless. In fact, I get the feeling that he already knew that before he came.

He can see the questioning look in my eyes and spares no time in answering it, seeing as I don't have much longer to live. "I'm here to make you a deal, Lina-san."

I groan. Speaking puts such a strain on my bruised and battered body; I speculate that a majority of my ribs have been fractured. "What do you mean?" I sputter along with a small, bloody cough.

He pauses briefly before responding, "The Pledge."

My lips press firmly together, forming a stoic, flat line. "I'm not interested," I reply coldly as I close my eyes. "Immortality is not a gift, Xelloss; it is a curse," I say, forgetting that he himself is an immortal.

He shakes his head at me slowly, regrettably. "I'm not giving you a choice in the matter, Lina-san," he softly adds, seeming to have already anticipated that response.

My eyes shoot back open. I stare at him, eyes wide and searching as he looks upon me in all seriousness. Then he places his staff on the ground at his side and reaches for my hand.

"Wait. Why are you--"

He lifts my hand, appearing to note how brittle it feels after being fractured in so many places. I wince; my hand lacks the solid structure of the healthy limb it once was--it is nothing more than a mass of flesh with bits of hardness placed inside. Regardless, my hand is necessary to make The Pledge, so it will have to do.

I try to resist him. I mentally scream at all the parts of my body to move, to do anything, but they do not. They remain as lifeless as I am--as helpless as I am--like useless appendages that do not belong. Tears fill my eyes as I watch Xelloss in horror. "No…I don't want this…"

He elevates my hand upon his own as he begins reciting the words of The Pledge in a language alien to my ears. But I know the content of his words, and my heart becomes wrought with dread at the single mention of my name. Then, suddenly, my vision is blurred by a black fog; I deduce that my body is probably surrounded by this ominous swirl of dark energy.

Xelloss opens his eyes. Two deep, violet eyes stare at me as he lowers my hand and charges a mass of energy in his own. I can feel my heart stopping as I desperately scream, "Stop--"

"Forgive me, Lina-san."

"Stop it!"

* * *

**Author's Note**: Well, it looks like my flair for tragedy has returned. At first, I wrote this in the third-person past tense as usual, but then I thought there needed to be a change of pace and converted it into the first-person present tense. It seems to have an entirely different effect, and though the strangeness of it all irks me a little, I do like the overall result. Anyway, reviews are greatly appreciated, though I'm not sure if there is as much to comment on as there is to ask about, at this point. By the way, did anyone catch the Beethoven reference ;D?


	2. Chapter 2

Immortal Beloved – Chapter Two  
_We rise from the dead as one…_

Impossible…

My worst fears are confirmed as my skin seals the wound I have inflicted upon myself. It, like a weave of sinewy threads, folds and restructures the shape of my body, working both diligently and quickly. Within a matter of seconds, I am whole--a faultless diamond carved by meticulous hands.

"Handy, isn't it?"

I spin around to find _him_ standing there with a hateful grin on his face. I glare. He, the source of this ruthless curse, appears to be enjoying my attempts at self-mutilation, as evidenced by the small chuckle that emerges from his lips. I draw back as he walks towards me; the malicious smile on his face forebodes the worst.

He snatches the dagger from me and waves a finger in front of my eyes. "Tsk tsk," he says. "Let's try not to destroy ourselves, hm? What if your regenerative abilities were to fail?"

"And whose fault do you think this is?" I screech at him, balling up the fabric of my clothing into my fists. My vision is blurred by angry tears; I am so blinded by all the hatred I feel for him that I can barely see. My judgment is so clouded that I can only speak the first words that come to mind. "I never asked for this…this…"

"Gift?" he fills in, as if it is something to be appreciated.

"_No_!" I shout. Though I probably already know the age-old answer to this question, I still venture to ask, "Why did you force me to take The Pledge? What do you get out of this, Xelloss?"

He slowly opens one baneful eye, and I shrink back in intimidation. Like poison, the venomous pupil burns through me, and I suddenly find it difficult to breathe.

"Naturally," he begins in that sugar-coated, deep voice of his, "that would be a secret."

Little droplets of cold sweat run down the back of my neck as I am suffocated by an enormous amount of pressure, cornered like prey staring into the minacious eyes of a feline predator. My antipathy increases each time he licks his lips; _there must be some way to escape this nightmare_, I assure myself. I just have to think carefully…

He smirks and backs away, turning his back to me. His cape falls out behind him; it waves at me like a bad omen. As if he has already read my mind--or worse, as if he finds it entertaining--he says, "You want to know where the Pledge Stone is, right Lina-san?"

Hope fills my chest. _Of course, there is __**always**__ a Pledge Stone_, I think excitedly. I will just have to find it and break it. But my dreams, like a sheet of glass, are shattered by his next statement, which pierces like an arrow through my heart.

"It is here," he says, and turns to face me, a hand raised to conceal the left half of his face. Then he removes it and deliberately shows me the stone mask underneath. I grimace at its lack of aesthetics; the hardhearted, callous mask repels me. Its exterior is the epitome of simplicity, concealing the emotions of its wearer in a shroud of apathy.

I carefully rise and step forward. When I am within range, I lash out with a fist, but he is quicker than I. He catches my hand and laughs, then jerks me forward so my face is a mere few inches away from his.

"Just try and break it, if you can."

I shove away from him and quickly summon a spell. "Fireball!"

My efforts are quickly wasted. Despair fills me as he bats the attack away with ease, and the neighboring room erupts into flames. My heart is wrenched by sounds of screams and a baby's cry, and I turn towards the fire with dread. In a panic, I chant the words to the first spell that comes to mind, "Freeze--"

"I would not advise the use of that spell, Lina-san. What if you hit the child?"

I bite my bottom lip and allow the energy to dispel. He is right; my haste has nearly resulted in disaster. I turn to him, seeking advice, but he simply shrugs at me. "Do not misunderstand me--yours is the only human life of worth."

The words sting, but I am already familiar with his heartless policy as a dirty businessman. I turn to face the blaze. "Keep it safe," I say, referring to the Pledge Stone. Then I dash forward into the flames, numb to the world of hurt and pain that should have pervaded me.

I cradle the young child in my arms, protecting it with my seared skin as I rush it to safety. Amidst the sounds of crashing wooden beams and crackling fire, I hear words, though they are faint.

"I plan to do so, for all eternity."

* * *

**Author's Note**: These chapters are rather short, aren't they? Well, I hope you enjoyed it :). I'll be back with more later (I need to stop procrastinating that pharmacy test...). Reviews are always welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

Immortal Beloved – Chapter Three  
_If ever your world starts crashing down…_

"Ugh…"

I have become so familiar with this scene--chaos and destruction before me, a pool of blood at my feet, and a dull pain in the core of my body that once again reminds me that I _live_. I groan and push myself, like a heavy deadweight, off the ground, wrapping an arm around my abdomen to keep the contents from spilling out into a grotesque heap. With a thick, blood-coated cough, I turn around to gaze at the soft earth that should have become my grave; another experiment has failed me, and I am still alive.

The Pledge was indeed a strong binding spell; I have already tried countless methods to undo its effects, but none have proved successful. After that, I began to test my own theories: destroying my body, burning it, tearing it apart; through all this the Pledge has held strong. The physical pain no longer bothers me; the pain of defeat crushes me. All I have ended up with are broken bones and spilled guts, and both problems are easy enough to fix--like putting the pieces of a puzzle back into place.

I sigh and continue to support my innards as my body weaves a new layer of skin atop it. Perhaps I am going about this all wrong; the only sure way to dispel the Pledge would be to break the Stone, but doing so would require some assistance. Xelloss is, after all, a formidable opponent--a mazoku of the same status as those I have struggled to defeat in the past.

Perhaps it is time to meet with friends of old. Maybe they can help me.

* * *

**Author's note**: A very short chapter, but necessary to the story nonetheless. See you soon!


	4. Chapter 4

Immortal Beloved – Chapter Four  
_That's when you'll find me…_

I suck in a quick breath of frigid air. My vision swirls as my face flushes a rosy pink, responding to the intense feeling of nostalgia that fills my body, and I expel a long sigh of warm, moist air. How times have changed--and yet, not at all. These streets are the same streets I have walked long ago--the same buildings I have passed; the same people I have once met. And yet, despite the warm faces that greet me, my fingers remain cold. My heart has stopped beating long ago--frozen in a sheet of ice along with my time.

_Atlas City_… The irony of the situation still makes me smile. A long, long time ago, I remember parting ways with a good companion at the front steps into town. We waved and said our goodbyes then, but this time our paths will be crossing here once more.

It does not take long to find him. There is only one place to go to for bounty hunters in this large city--The Black Dragon, a tavern hidden by the darkest alleys. As I walk through the back door, I note how the dark atmosphere almost perfectly matches his personality. Among the numerous ragged ruffians and hooligans in the tavern, a single man tries his best to fade into the background, unnoticed.

As I make my way over to his isolated corner, I watch as a waitress caters a glass of dark red wine to his table, then scampers off to her next customer. He picks it up and swirls it slowly; the crimson liquid shines beautifully against the wall of candles behind him, glowing scarlet against his shadowy silhouette. He brings his face up to take a sip, and for the first time those familiar, crystalline blue eyes meet mine.

My breath catches--as does his, I assume, for he is unable to break his gaze from mine. I press a hand to my chest to subdue the ache that manifests there; I have not seen him in so long, and the sight of him well is enough to overwhelm me.

I swallow, and suddenly my throat has gone completely dry. As my feet courageously propel me forward, my lips form the first letters of his name: _Zel_--

An anonymous soul passes before me, and in a blinding flash he is gone. The renewed life in my steps suddenly comes to a halt. It's like I have seen an apparition of the person I wanted to see--a wisp of the soul I remember. I swallow again and speak, "Zelgadiss."

A strong hand encircles my wrist, and my heart flutters at the sound of his deep voice. "Lina?"

I spin around, as stunned to find him there as he is to see me. He looks at me as though he has just seen a ghost; I return it with a similar, aghast expression. Then he opens his mouth to speak, promptly closes it when no words sneak past his lips, and turns around, leading me through the masses of souls without ever releasing his grip on me--lest I get swallowed up by the vast number of wandering souls sweeping past us.

We enter a room--a loft of some sort--where he silently offers me a seat. I obey, raising my head inquisitively at him as I lower myself onto the sofa.

He slowly loosens his hold on my wrist, then collects my hand between both of his. My face flushes, but the color quickly drains. His hand is warm, but despite how long he holds my hand in his, mine remains cold--a piece of a lifeless corpse.

"What happened?" he asks, jumping straight to the issue at hand.

_Good ol' Zel_, I muse as I bite my bottom lip. He has always been the sharp one--the only one whom I could always count on to be with me and at my side even as I continued to run. But now my gears have stopped, and his continue to run; while he is still alive, I have already departed this world.

I pull my hand away from his and pat the seat next to me. He sits down obediently and remains silent as I explain to him everything that has happened, swallowing each painful morsel one at a time. When I finish my story, I look to him, waiting--longing for words that might spark even the smallest flame of hope in me.

But he simply wrenches his hands, and a small frown forms on his lips as he contemplates the situation that I have suddenly tossed on him. I can tell that he is deeply troubled--he probably already senses what I have come to ask of him.

I reach out to him and begin, "Zel--"

He abruptly rises to his feet. "I can't do it, Lina. As much as I would like to, to do so would mean…"

He turns to look at me with such a sorrowful expression in his eyes that my heart is immediately shattered. He shakes his head and begins to turn from me. "…I thought you were dead."

I grab his arm. I can feel the tears and the desperation welling up from within me now, and if I let him go he might just disappear. He glances over his shoulder at me; those icy blue eyes suddenly soften as he gazes down at me. This Zelgadiss is the one I am familiar with--not the coldhearted, magic-wielding swordsman but the gentle, reliable friend I have always trusted. A vision flashes before my eyes, and I remember those pitiful, gentle eyes from long ago that he cast upon me--a pair of aquamarine eyes that pitied the young girl he had to take hostage under orders from Rezo. But, just as he was then, he has no other options to offer me now. I drop my head. It was wrong of me to ask him--I knew deep down inside the kind of torment it would cause him, but at the same time I do not know where else to go. I hear his feet shift and feel a light weight atop my head, stroking my hair with an awkward sort of kindness. This single, subtle gesture is enough to make my tears spill over--little droplets of proof that I am, indeed, still alive.

And I do, indeed, still curse every moment of it.


	5. Chapter 5

Immortal Beloved – Chapter Five  
_We are all victims of the same curse_...

I inhale deeply, letting loose a hollow sigh. Then, resolutely, I call, "Filia! Come out! I know you're there!"

_Do not yield_, I repeat to myself. _You must be cold, calculating--heartless_. My swallow comes with difficulty, and the air suddenly feels heavier--thicker. I can feel my heart pounding against the walls of its bony prison, and the bars are being weakened by every single beat. I close my eyes briefly and envision a blazing fire against my eyelids; I open my eyes with renewed tenacity. _Merciless_.

"Lina-san? Is that y--"

In one swift movement I have my blade pressed tightly against her throat. The dragon priestess is silent--her mouth hangs open, and she greets me with two very large, frightened eyes. As they begin to narrow, she exclaims, "What is the meaning of this?"

"You'll see soon," I reply to her, and prepare a spell in my hand. Her eyes travel down to the source of magic, eyeing it nervously as she keeps her head held up high against my blade. I know the weapon will not be enough to pierce her tough dragon skin, and I am sure she does, too. But the blade is not my weapon; it is my intimidating persona that is key. She knows I am serious.

"Filia?"

I can see a new wave of panic wash over those bright, blue eyes, and I can't fight the smug grin that appears on my face. I tilt my head and immediately set eyes on who I expect to see.

"Stay back!" Filia shouts at young Valgaav as he comes running up. He is a boy who appears no older than sixteen years of age; he has kept all the same looks, except for his hair which has grown out much longer in length. The sight of him brings back memories, and for a second, the barrier I have fortified around my heart threatens to melt.

Valgaav first glances at Filia, then carefully at me. After a lengthy pause, he moves his lips to speak. "Lina Inverse?"

I offer a devilish smirk, and out of the corner of my eye I can see Filia's face go white. The response is so pleasing that I can begin to understand why Xelloss frequently partakes in these sorts of exchanges--there's something enjoyable about it all, and it's hard to resist. "The one and only," I reply. "I see you remember me, then?"

There is an unsure reply. "I do," he answers quietly.

"Then I will get straight to the point," I say, and charge more energy into the spell I have built up. I can see Filia shout at Valgaav out of concern, but her voice is silenced by the deafening crackle in my hand. Then, when its strength is built to my liking, I unleash the chaos: "Digger Volt!"

Then I charge the lightning straight into my body.

I can feel all the muscles in my body painfully spasm, and my heart's cage shatters against the pressure. I can only imagine what a sight I must be at this moment--a pile of burnt flesh convulsing as I collapse to the ground. If I could hear, I imagine I would have heard a scream from Filia--but as it stands, I cannot.

Soon, though, my senses have returned, and I am well enough to push myself off the ground. I dust myself off and lift my head to be greeted by a perturbed look from both Filia and Valgaav.

"You took the Pledge?"

I grin at the young green-haired dragon. Filia quickly spins her head to face him, then turns back to me. "Lina-san?" she inquires cautiously.

The smile disappears from my face. "Not by choice," I reply, and both dragons are suddenly on edge as I inch forward. "Trust me," I begin, "I would have liked to die as a human."

Filia presses a hand to her chest. "Then…"

"Xelloss," I state, and my eyes turn several shades darker. At the mention of his name, Filia shudders. Valgaav's reaction interests me, and I can see a slight hint of rage building up in those tense muscles of his. A sliver of hope seeps into my bosom. _Perhaps all is not lost…_

I continue my advance, directing my steps and gaze at the young, promising dragon. "What do you think? You kill Xelloss--you kill me. It's like hitting two birds with one stone."

"Stop it," Filia pleads, but my heart holds strong against her.

"You'd have your revenge, at last."

He lowers his head. "My heart is no longer filled with hatred," he replies solemnly, clenching his hand into a fist. "I don't want to dig up what has long since been buried."

I frown. I have come too far to take _no_ for an answer.

Gathering her wits about her, Filia steps up to me and demands, "Lina-san! Stop this at--"

I ruthlessly strike the side of her face with the back of my hand, and she staggers off to the side. "I'm not playing games, Filia," I swear to her, and I can feel the determination blazing behind my eyes. "If you make another move," I begin, and pull out my sword. I hold her to the end of my sword point, and glare down the length of it into her glistening blue eyes. "Your head will be mine. So, please stay quiet."

Filia's eyes slowly transitioned from fright to sadness. I know how far I have come, for her saddened voice does little to wound me. "Lina-san…"

Filia's presence here is no longer of any importance to me. I turn instead to the young dragon, and press my deal upon him once again. "So what do you say, young Val, if I were to exchange her life for mine?"

But he stands there, unfazed by my empty threats. And then he murmurs, "You're an open wound…"

The truth of the words strikes like a dagger to my frozen heart. I can feel the icy dungeon crumbling to pieces, and my heart breathes life into my body once more. "Shut up!" I scream, attempting to force them back out of my heart--a heart which won't stop beating.

"A bound immortal…"

"No!"

"…I cannot help you."

The sword falls from my hand to the hard soil with a soft clang, and I along with it. I collapse to my knees and slam my fist against the ground so hard that I can feel the earth tremble beneath my feet. I can feel their gazes on my back--rueful, melancholy eyes that can offer little more than sympathy to rid me of this accursed curse--a curse they have had to endure for much longer than I.

How could I have overlooked such a simple detail?


	6. Chapter 6

Immortal Beloved – Chapter Six  
_The future awaits…_

"Come closer, child, and allow me to read your fortune."

I glance around. _She must be addressing someone else_, I tell myself, but there is no one around me. Though I have little faith in fortunes, the beckoning finger draws me closer.

"Closer…that's a good deary."

My nose wrinkles as I approach her. The old hag reeks of pungent herbs and medicine, and the odor is foul indeed. I attempt to step back but she latches onto my wrist. Her hand is gnarled, wrinkly, and old--the kind of hand that _I_ will never have.

"Now hold still while I call forth the spirits of the otherworld," she says as she shuts her eyes and begins to chant. The words sound not too different from the language of the elves, but it is far beyond my comprehension.

I watch as the candle flames begin to flicker out, one following another until the last has been smoked. There is a definite disturbance in the air, and I begin to wonder if there is actually something beyond my awareness taking place in the room. Cold air--like the breath of the dead--blows across the back of my neck. I feel their hands around it, pulling--dragging me to the place where I rightly belong.

But then the magic stops. The air settles, and the witch falls back in her chair, raspy gasps escaping her mouth. Then she points a finger at me and accuses, "You! You do not belong here!"

My lips press tightly together, forming a straight line. Whatever life was in my eyes before fades, and I stare at her blankly as she continues to impede my vision with her adamant finger. Then she hisses, "I see a black curse etched into your soul. It crawls, like a snake, along your body, threatening all those who come near. When I touched its tail, it lashed out like a demon, hungry to consume the souls of the living--longing to be with us."

The finger begins to annoy me, and I swat it off to the side. "Now look here…"

She shrieks. "I have been poisoned by the black curse!" she cries, holding her shaking hands up in the air as she hobbles over to her cabinet and begins to scavenge through it for a remedy.

_…A remedy?_

I watch her silently as she brings a bottle to her lips and drinks thirstily. The dark liquid dribbles down her neck, leaving light stains as it is absorbed through her skin. When she is done, she wipes her mouth crudely with the back of her hand and turns to me.

"Can I see that?" I ask, reaching out for the bottle.

"No!" she screams, keeping it away from my hands.

Her reaction agitates me. "That wasn't an option. I was asking to be polite," I state, glaring her down.

She returns my look with an icy glare of her own. "And I am not afraid of a curséd spirit," she replies.

"Tch," I spit. Had she been younger, and a man, I would have no regrets about beating her down. Old withered women, on the other hand, merit some sense of decency. _But I won't walk away empty-handed_.

I reach out again, and she expectedly whips away from me. While her back is turned, I discreetly sneak one of her bottles into my pocket. If I get lucky, the medicine might be enough to cure me; if I get luckier, the medicine might be enough to kill me.

"Begone, foul spirit, before I must exorcise you myself!" she shouts, waving me off as she searches out tools to use in an exorcism. I comply with her demand, unsure whether or not I actually want to be here when she finds what she's looking for.

When I am a considerable distance down the road, I feel a pair of eyes staring at my back. Cautiously, I turn around to discern _whose_ eyes are watching me, expecting to find _him_. But instead of the witch, and instead of _him_, I find the silky silhouette of a lady with long, wavy hair in the doorway. She has what appears to be a smoke in her hand, but I only catch a glimpse of it before she fades.

_Who is she_, I wonder.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Expect the next chapter--the last chapter--to come very soon. And a little addendum chapter, too :D. It'll be my last few contributions before college starts up again, and I go back to strictly focusing on original works.


	7. Chapter 7

Immortal Beloved – Chapter Eight  
_The true meaning of Despair_

I toss my head back to savor the mysterious, bitter blend of hops and fruit juice as it slides down my throat. It bursts into little flames on its way down, filling my body with temporary warmth that extends from the tip of my nose all the way down to my toes. I smile languidly; the warmth is greatly appreciated on this particularly cold and lonely night, thirty years after I last saw or heard from my friends.

I look down at my hands. The skin is taught, young, and still fresh. _Funny_, I think with sarcasm as the alcohol puts blurry teardrops in my eyes, and the haze clouds over my vision. _Others will spend their lives searching for this, and yet here I am_…

By the time I finish the little bottle of liquid, my head is already swirling and my cheeks are extremely flushed. I empty the last drop onto the tip of my tongue, glance into the opening to see if there is any left, and sigh when I find nothing there. I throw the object behind me, expecting to hear the satisfying sound of shattering glass, but am sorely disappointed when it does not come.

I sigh again.

"What do you want from me?" I ask.

He doesn't respond. I cannot hear his footsteps, but I can feel him coming near. The closer he gets, the louder my heartbeat resounds, thumping like a drum down a long, empty hallway.

He stops just behind me; I feel uneasy with his breath on my shoulder. _He is up to something_, I think, waiting on time to reveal his plans to me. Then he blows on my neck, sending shivers up my spine, and wraps his fingers around the other side of my exposed neck, trapping me.

I remain loose in this embrace, for the alcohol has a firm grasp on me. Then he leans in and whispers in my ear, "How do you like the taste of despair?"

I spin around with my palm extended, intending to slap his face away from mine, but he vanishes before I manage to make contact. The glass bottle goes crashing to the ground, and the sound of shattering glass that I have sought echoes throughout the air. He appears again in front of me, hand gently cradling the mask on his face. The amusement on his face has disappeared, and he becomes quiet as he once again meets my eyes.

I giggle a little bit; to see the Great Juushinkan protecting something makes for a great laugh. Inhibitions abandoned, I wobble forward, crossing the river of glass shards that crunch, like ice, beneath my feet, until I can clearly see him through my drunken fog--a visage of mystery.

"Do you want to try a sip?" I ask him, then smoothly slip one arm around his neck and gently brush his bangs to the side with my other hand. As my fingers slide down the side of his face, I am easily able to pry the mask from his face, holding it out to the side. That's strange. Why isn't he resisting?

He watches me with a strange sincerity in his eyes--a look of longing and conflicted emotions. _My eyes must be deceiving me_, I tell myself, but the look in his eyes fills me with unrest.

The proof is there--so clear, so evident. But how am I to accept what cannot be true?

I part my lips ever so slightly and slip my other arm around his neck. His eyes are open--crisp, lucid, violet eyes filled with poison. My mind is swamped by the toxin.

Our lips brush, shyly at first, but then our kisses become more ardent--more passionate--and soon all barriers have fallen as I indulge in one last sinful pleasure. Then he kisses me gently--once, twice--and begins to whisper sweet nothings against my lips.

"My dear. My sweet. My Lina. _My_ Lina…"

I think I am beginning to understand him now--his motives, his weakness. He and I--dare I say it--_we _are both victims of this miserable fate…this curse. And everywhere we go we seek a release from its grasp, but that is where we differ. As I have sought out release from this eternal prison, so has he--and I am…_was_ that solution: his immortal beloved.

The stone shatters in my hand with a deafening crack. I feel my life force being drawn from me, slipping away…passing through his arms like an intangible breath. The pain in his voice breaks my heart, but my decision has been made. My conscious is fading; the world returns to white…

"Lina-san…"


	8. Addendum

Immortal Beloved – Addendum  
_The price of immortality…_

I carry her into the bedroom and gently lay her lifeless figure on top of the bed. It will take time--it always does the first time--but she will eventually regenerate what has been lost. I warily sit on the bed next to her, careful not to rouse her from sleep lest she wake in a state of panic, as I gaze down at her battered, yet beautiful body. The flesh in her chest where I had unleashed my attack is coming together, as is the area where she had been impaled. I grasp her hand and find relief in knowing that it once again feels like the hand that I have been fortunate enough to have held before.

It is only natural that I, a mazoku, would want to preserve a human being who has proven capable of furthering our cause. It would be a shame to let her pass, that is, without being useful. Juu-ou-sama wants this; I am certain she does, even if I have acted without an order. _I will finally have possession of all her thoughts and feelings_.

Her stirring alarms me, and I release my hold on her hand. She is in pain; I can clearly see it on her face, and I naturally absorb it--relish it. Her flavor is unique, and I have developed a liking for it. I lick my lips as I lean forward to touch her, running my fingers lightly across her rosy cheek.

My eyes then capture the scarlet hue of her lips. I lightly brush my index finger across their tender surface; they are soft and warm, nice to the touch and undeniably tempting…

I pause. My face is just inches from hers, my lips are slightly parted, and my eyelids are almost sealed. Humans kiss in displays of affection for one another, or in sudden acts of lust. Why, then, would I be sucked in by either of these two motives? I pull away, dismissing the earlier incentive to test out the act of kissing. I already have what I want: Lina Inverse belongs to me. I desire no more than that.

I stand up and back away from her side. On my way out, I make sure to retrieve the stone tablet I have placed at the door. It is the symbol of our Pledge--an apathetic, unfeeling stone mask that covers only half of the face. Ironically, the stone has taken on a form that reflects my feelings rather than hers--usually the stone takes on a form suitable for the container, the one who made The Pledge, not the one who has been pledged to. But why am I preoccupied with the details?

I place the mask against my face and turn to have one last look at Lina before exiting the room. She is mine at last, and if she will hate me, then let her hate be mine and mine alone. Her hate, her misery, her desperation--she will belong entirely to me.

…For all eternity.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Many of you may be a little confused as to why this chapter is here O.o. I had originally written it as chapter two...then decided the switch to Xelloss's point of view was awkward, and wrote the chapter two that you have already read. It didn't quite fit in the storyline, but I felt it would make a nice little afterword of some sort, so I have attached it here. So here I close the storyline that opened with Xelloss and ended with him, albeit short. Hope you enjoyed it :D.


End file.
